SPN-Fanfiction - Jack in trouble with Cas - soul magic
by spnfanfromeurope
Summary: Jack is in trouble with Castiel. This is a tagalong to season 14 episode 10. SPOILERALERT. Read at your own risk, if you are not up to date on the show. Warning: non-sexual, consensual belt spanking will occur. No smut, no ships, just a simple short spanking story. I own nothing, I just play in the sandbox.


"That magic burns off your soul."  
Cas leaned a little forward over the kitchen table looking intently at the young man, who sat across from him, hands folded before him, tension in every line of his lean body.

Jack didn't lift his eyes from the table top, he just shook his head a little and answered:  
"It was an accident."

Cas' voice got tight, intense, he tapped the table between them with a finger:  
"Yeah, but you can't afford that kind of accident. You need your soul to stay alive, to…"

Jack interrupted him, looking up for the first time, defending himself:  
"They would've killed you."

"I know…. Look, I'm not mad at you."  
Cas' eyes stared into Jack's, then dropped as he sighed:  
"I've just seen firsthand what the absence of a soul does. And it's not just about you staying alive, Jack. It's about you staying you."  
Those blue eyes were boring into Jack's again, burning with the need to get him to understand, to get the message through.  
"You understand?"

Jack nodded a little while he found his voice:  
"It won't happen again."

Cas smiled at him and got up tapping the tabletop twice as he did so:  
"Okay. Let's make sure it doesn't."  
The older man's strong hand landed on Jack's shoulder squeezing gently.

Jack stared at the tabletop, then he sighed and stood up.  
"Okay, I was expecting that."  
He looked at Cas: "Is it going to be the belt?"

Cas tilted his head a little: "Do you think that would be appropriate?"  
"Since risking my soul seems to be at least as bad as risking my life needlessly, and that means the belt, I'm guessing… yes?"  
Cas nodded in response to that reasoning.  
"But, Cas, it really wasn't a needless foolish risk, it was the only way to save you all."  
"I know. I'm taking that into account."

Cas' hand clapped him lightly on the shoulder again.  
"Let's just get this over with, it's been a long day. Okay?"

Jack took a deep breath. The kitchen smelled vaguely of fried bacon and cleaning detergent, a smell that had come to mean home and family. The kitchen had turned into the heart of this beautiful, but not very homely, bunker. The place where they gathered, ate and took a break from the pain of the world.  
Jack realized that he felt safer in this kitchen than anywhere else in the world. Safe when he was with this man, these men… they had Dean back… but how long? At what price… Dean was strong, but would he hold? Jack shook his head… thoughts for another time.

He turned to the table and undid his trousers. As he pushed them down to his knees, he looked over his shoulder at his real father.  
Cas shook his head, "You can keep the underwear this time, Jack"  
Jack gave him a half-smile in gratitude.  
He put his palms on the table, but immediately felt a hand tapping his back. Obediently he slid further down, folding his arms in front of him making them a pillow for his face.

He heard the jingle of a belt buckle, and the hiss of leather being drawn free. Then, unexpectedly, Cas said "Fifteen, Jack."

Jack twisted around to look over his shoulder again, the question obvious in his eyes.  
The only time anyone had given him set number before was the very first time Cas had belted him. That had been thirty on top of a hand-spanking and that had been a rough experience... after that Cas and the Winchesters seemed to have been in agreement: they just spanked until the spanker felt that some obscure goal had been reached.

He wasn't altogether clear on whether this development was a good or a bad thing.  
Fifteen didn't sound too bad, in comparison, as he'd had more than that on almost every previous occasion, but why was Cas telling him in advance? Was it going to be worse than usual, or was this meant to help as Cas had acknowledged that Jack had done what he did for a good reason…?

Cas didn't exactly answer the unspoken question, but as he took aim for the first lash he added:  
"I want you to count every one of them, Jack. And for each one you give me a reason why you should never use that magic again, do you understand?"

Jack felt his eyes go wide. This was new too.  
He gulped, nodded and simply said: "Yes Sir," then he leaned his head back down on his forearms, gripping his own elbows hard as the belt whistled through the air and drew the first line of pain across his backside.

"One, Sir. I need my soul to stay alive."

The second welt rose just below the first one.  
"Two, Sir, I need my soul to stay me."

Cas wasn't holding back, the doubled-up belt thudded into Jack, raising welts with every stroke, painting his ass and the uppermost part of his thighs fire-engine red.

As the throbbing welts rose Jack's voice swung with the belt, sometimes he could barely whisper the words, at other times he almost shouted.

He stumbled once at the eleventh stroke, not able to remember how far they had gotten:  
"SSsss twelve, Sir.. aaaackkk!"  
The unexpected extra stroke caught him right where the ass meets the thighs, that oh, so tender area, and it was even harder than the strokes preceding it. He arched up from the table, grabbing onto the edges to keep his hands from going back to cover the abused skin, gasping for air.

"That was eleven, Jack, do you want to try again? Or do we need to start over?"  
Cas' voice was calm but had a hard edge of determination…  
As Jack choked out the correct response, he realized with a sudden clarity that brought water to his eyes, just how much Cas hated doing this, how desperate he felt, how scared. He'd lost his son, only to get him back at a terrible price, and this was how he was rewarded.  
The son he'd given everything to keep, was using that gift in a way that might….  
Tears started leaking out of Jack's eyes, and he no longer had trouble coming up with reasons why his soul was important.

"Twelve Sir, thank you, Sir, without a soul, I won't go to heaven when I die."  
"Aahggg…Thirteen, Sir, thank you, Sir, without a soul, I wouldn't be me and you would have lost me all over again."  
Gasping for air, he stuttered:  
"Fourteen, Sir, thank you, Sir, without a soul, if my powers come back, I would be an unstoppable monster."  
Jack rocked forward, slamming his hips into the table:  
"Fifteen Sir, thank you, Sir, if I lose my soul, you might have to hunt me down before my powers turn me into something worse than Michael."

At that Jack slumped over the table and cried himself breathless.  
The pain he had brought on this man, these men: Cas, his father, Sam and Dean, his brothers, teachers… Oh, Dean, struggling to hold Michael, a Michael who wouldn't have been in this world if it wasn't for Jack… this was all his fault, how would he ever be able to meet anyone's eyes ever again?  
Then he felt a hand stroking his hair, running circles over his back, and he heard words of love, comfort, care… and sobbed even harder.  
A strong hand grabbed his shoulder, he was pulled upright and into a hug. He leaned into the offered safe haven as his brain stopped spinning and the words finally got through to him:  
He was safe, loved, important, needed, the one good thing to have come of all this.

When Cas finally let his son go, there was a light there, in those young eyes, that had been missing for far too long.


End file.
